


Brighter When You Make Me Fade

by ishre_yann



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, GlitterBeefs AU, I'm bad at tagging sorryyyy, Light BDSM, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, soldier kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 14:20:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15887781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishre_yann/pseuds/ishre_yann
Summary: Shiro has seen Kinkade do things and Kinkade has noticed Shiro staring so now Kinkade does things to Shiro instead to strangers he should be working for





	Brighter When You Make Me Fade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [buffshiro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/buffshiro/gifts).



> This work needs to be beta-read because I'm not a native speaker and I can't beta for shit sorryyyy if you're interested please do let me know, my inbox/dms are open!!
> 
> Also, I can finally write something for Tofu (@buffshiro on Twitter, @tofuloo on Tumbl!!) and their AU without feeling like I'm ruining or not getting something so YAY that's a win. Tofu is the best person in the fandom I can never thank them enough for these AU so yeah, I wanna totally keep writing for these.
> 
> Hope u guys enjoy!!!

“I got something,” Kinkade had purred at Shiro with a wicked smile on his full lips. “Y’know?”

Shiro had kept up the game, faking ignorance. “Is it more ribbons? You tore the last ones,” he had asked, eyebrow raising.

Kinkade had just smiled, shook his head, and came closer. “It’s a surprise,” he’d whispered, biting the air just a few inches away from Shiro’s lips.

Between comebacks and witty remarks, Kinkade had taken Shiro in his room with tugs and pushes, like they had all the time in the world. Shiro let Kinkade push him around, never with malice, just enough to have Shiro cling to Kinkade’s shoulders—forced to hold onto him for balance.

Words became low whispers, low moans as Kinkade licked Shiro’s mouth and bit his lips, only kissing him when Shiro had been trying to for a solid minute. Shiro lost track of time when he made out, and Kinkade promptly had to remind him to move with either a tug—or directly push his thigh between Shiro’s legs and press a knee right under Shiro’s crotch.

Shiro let out a heavy sigh, walking backwards and yet wishing it didn’t mean walking _away_ from Kinkade’s leg. He complied, though, until he was the one dragging Kinkade towards the bed. It was then that his eyes fell on a pair of cargo jeans with military patterns.

Kinkade didn’t miss his stare, turned back only to push Shiro on the bed and order a slow, “Stay.” Then, he was moving away and undressing right a few feet away from Shiro.

Shiro could reach out, touch the curve of Kinkade’s back, his dimples, up to the muscles of his shoulders, defined and just a bit glossy because of the heat. It had been a hot day, and Shiro had turned on the AC to sleep in until Kinkade had come back home.

Shiro bit down his lip when Kinkade let his jeans drop down, revealing the curve of his ass—Shiro’s fingers twitched at that, mindful of the countless times he’d held onto them as Kinkade fucked into him with force.

Shiro moved a hand to unbutton his pants, dick already swelling in his boxers. “You move, you don’t come tonight,” Kinkade cuts him off with husky voice, only barely eyeing Shiro over his shoulder. Shiro put his hand back next to his thigh and didn’t move, almost forgot that he was allowed to at least _breathe_.

Shiro swallows. He’d seen Kinkade dancing with that same costume on a few nights ago, but he didn’t think Kinkade would’ve noticed him. As much as Shiro didn’t like to think about it, Kinkade in military clothes would’ve been a sight for any day of the week. Fuck Kinkade in those clothes? Shiro wasn’t suddenly sure he could make it last.

Kinkade was putting on the cargo, now, and Shiro knew which side of Kinkade this was—the one he’d seen for so long in the nightclubs. His mouth watered suddenly when Shiro noticed Kinkade hadn’t kept his underwear and was now walking towards him with an obvious bulge, badly hidden by the cheap fabric.

“Good,” Kinkade let out, lips curling at the sides, hand reaching for his phone and turning on the speakers in the room. Shiro swallowed when he recognised the playlists from the nightclub. “You know the rules, yeah?”

Shiro nodded. Of course he knew the rules of the nightclub, he _worked_ there. No touching under any of the fabrics, unless the dancer took them off, and a whole lot of other stuff. “What about the money?” he asked, dumbfounded.

Kinkade chuckled, low and dark, hands reaching for Shiro’s neck, up until he reached for the back of Shiro’s head and held on tight. “I’m sure you’ll think of something to pay me back,” he purred as he started dancing.

Shiro fought the urge to open his mouth and let his tongue roll out when Kinkade moved his hips close to his face to the increasing rhythm of the song. It was hard to concentrate when he had vivid memories of what it was like to have Kinkade fuck his mouth.

He could feel his heart right in his throat, pulsing through his temples and pumping way too much blood than he actually needed at the moment. Dizziness had him breathing right on Kinkade’s dick, hot and shaky, even though the fabric was in the way—Shiro could still let him know his mouth was more than ready for it.

He settled for raising his hands and feel Kinkade’s strong thighs. The fabric was so thin he could feel the muscle fibre contract under his touch. Kinkade didn’t let Shiro climb up to his hips, though. He grabbed Shiro’s wrists and guided them up to his abdomen, muscles contracting and releasing tension while Kinkade moved right in front of him. It was sinuous, harmonious almost, and Shiro knew how much time Kinkade had spent on perfecting all of it.

Kinkade was smiling above him, hummed something Shiro didn’t quite catch. “Do you want to undress, baby?” he asked, and yet it didn’t feel like a question at all.

Shiro nodded with force, shuddered when Kinkade’s smile became sharp. Kinkade took his head between his head once more and closed the distance between Shiro’s face and his crotch until Shiro’s mouth was right against Kinkade’s length, only a thin layer of fabric separating the two. Shiro groaned and sucked the fabric, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable as he’d imagined.

“It’s your surprise, Shiro, you gotta only decide how you want it,” Kinkade let out.

Shiro choked a moan when Kinkade pulled his hair roughly, exposed his neck and pushed him down on the bed, crawling right on top of him, still holding onto him. Shiro shut his eyes and arched into the gesture, mouth open and hands twitching. “Hold me still,” he breathes out. “I don’t want to move.”

He swallows when Kinkade moves to take his wrists and hold them just above Shiro’s head. “Like this?” he asks. And Shiro whines, because _no, that’s not right._ Kinkade shifts enough to let Shiro move. A voice in the back of his mind tells him he shouldn’t—he _shouldn’t_ —want this, not after what they’d done to him.

Yet, he let Kinkade fuck him without his prosthetics more than once now, and Kinkade had more than showed how much Shiro could trust him.

“Take- take the arm off?” Shiro asked hesitantly, voice shaking. When Kinkade didn’t move, he let out another heavy breath. “Please, Sir?”

Kinkade made an amused sound, curiosity getting the best of him. Yet, Shiro felt his hard stare at him, focused and careful of any sign of distress. Eventually, he helped Shiro out of his shirt and carefully took off the prosthetic.

Shiro was grateful for the way Kinkade managed to merge roughness and devoting behaviours every time they were together. It helped him both get in the mood and reminded Shiro of the trust he put in Kinkade.

Without the prosthetic, Shiro was painfully aware of his whole body—the scars, the stump, and the way his body leaned just too much on one side to balance out the absence of his arm. It was painfully obvious, and yet Kinkade had never done anything but appreciate him.

Still now, he was soothing Shiro with words of encouragement. “You’re okay, baby boy,” and “You’ll look so good,” or “Like that, Shiro.”

Shiro shifted under Kinkade’s piercing eyes, the cold of the room biting into his skin and drawing goosebumps. He’d forgotten to turn off the AC, but it was no problem. Shiro turned on his belly, guiding Kinkade with his body, rather than his voice. He couldn’t exactly formulate a proper sentence right now.

“You want me to immobilize you, Shiro?” Kinkade caught up eventually, and Shiro nodded with maybe too much enthusiasm. Kinkade’s jaw worked as he pressed Shiro into the mattress, hand twisted behind his back and wrist held tight between Kinkade’s rough fingers—Shiro had moved his hand so the angle would be odd, just like they’d taught him.

He couldn’t pull away from Kinkade’s grasp without hurting himself, and Kinkade knew it, testing Shiro’s manoeuvrability until he was satisfied with his result.

“Get that ass up,” he ordered, voice curling in dark tones.

Shiro did, and Kinkade didn’t once make it easy for him. He was still pinning Shiro down as Shiro struggled to gather his knees beneath him—either too spread or still not enough bent. Shiro’s breath hitched when he finally managed to raise against Kinkade’s pressure and found Kinkade’s crotch pressing right against his ass.

Shiro whined when he realised Kinkade was still wearing the cargo. At the same time, he shivered in anticipation as Kinkade gave a first, full push against him, pinning him even further down on the mattress. Shiro exhaled, untouched and under-stimulated. Kinkade had yet to touch him, and Shiro knew he wouldn’t be able to do it without leaving Shiro’s arm free.

Not if Shiro wanted Kinkade to fuck him as well.

“I didn’t catch that, Shiro,” Kinkade growled, low and sharp.

Shiro shuddered. “Nothing, Sir,” he said immediately.

Kinkade hummed, pleased, and Shiro couldn’t move much to see what he was doing. He just sank in the mattress as Kinkade leaned on his side to grab something. Shiro only heard the plastic _pop!_ before cold liquid dripped along his cheeks, sending sparks of tension across his whole insides.

Anticipation wore him off worse than edging sometimes, and Shiro propped his ass further up, so that Kinkade could be as free as possible to move. He almost cried in relief when the first finger massaged his hole, relaxing and then sighing when Kinkade pushed inside him without ceremonies.

Shiro moaned, voice muffled against the sheets, when Kinkade pushed deeper with little preparation. The burn was just enough to have him tense up, hips working to get a better angle, only to result further immobilized down by Kinkade’s weight. He’d shifted too much his centre of gravity, and now his throat was uncomfortably stretched to allow the odd angle between his back and his head.

“I’ve got your favourite, baby,” Kinkade let him know from behind him. “Glitters and peaches.” Shiro clenched his insides, Kinkade only using it as an encouragement to sink deeper into the knuckle.

Shiro forced himself to relax once more when Kinkade pulled almost all the way out, only to add a second finger. He couldn’t move without risking suffocating, but he wanted to so bad, and he loved it. Kinkade held him still as he fucked inside of him, stretching him open and scissoring his fingers.

Shiro whimpered but didn’t dare to ask for more. He could feel the sheets getting wet with his own saliva and forced his mouth to close. It was then that Kinkade brushed his pad against Shiro’s sweet post, sending a jolt of painful pleasure through him. Shiro tensed, legs locking and body jerking, a sharp cry escaped at the same time, suffocated by the mattress and the sheets.

Kinkade worked him open slowly, so much Shiro couldn’t help but choke out a sob when a third finger joined in. His dick was leaking—either that, or it was the lube dripping on his scrotum, down the whole length of his cock.

Kinkade was merciless, and only responded to Shiro calling him Sir—and, _god_ , whenever Shiro did, Kinkade obliged. He fucked him harder, deeper, and then pushed his fingers down to see the results of his work, stretching Shiro as much as he could, before pulling out entirely.

Shiro whined, forced himself to shut up as soon as the second _pop!_ broke the song’s rhythm and had him spreading out his legs just a few inches more, as if that would make any difference.

“Tell me again,” Kinkade paused, and Shiro _knew_ he was testing him, checking if Shiro interrupted his speech or waited for him. So Shiro closed his lips shut, forcing down his voice until his temples throbbed. Kinkade huffed, voice curling in a smile Shiro didn’t need to see in order to picture. “What is it you want?”

Shiro opened his mouth, shaky voice and wet lips. “Fuck me- please, Sir,” he pleaded.

“Didn’t you like my fingers?”

Shiro tried to nod, but the result was poor and unsatisfactory. “Yessir, I love your fingers-”

“But,” Kinkade cut him off. Leaning in so he could grab Shiro’s hair once more and stretch his throat even further—so much it almost hurt. Shiro was shaking.

“Sir,” Shiro choked. “Please.”

Kinkade bit the hollow of his neck, and Shiro cried at the sudden pain. It didn’t last, as soon as Shiro tensed, Kinkade was licking and sucking Shiro’s skin, tongue soothing where his teeth sank down. “You have permission to say it, Shiro. Tell me what you love more.”

Shiro moaned. “Your dick, Sir. I- _fuck_ , I really love your dick. _Please,_ I want- I want your dick.”

Kinkade didn’t hesitate, as soon as Shiro said it, he let go of his air. Shiro could feel his hand between his cheeks, holding himself and pushing inside right after. Shiro cried out at Kinkade’s size, the stretch and the burn that followed, eased by the lube.

The sweet smell of peach filled his nostrils, Shiro distantly registered.

And then Kinkade was pushing inside of him with a relentless pace. Shiro could still make out the edges of Kinkade’s pants where they were still hanging on his hips, and now rubbing against Shiro’s cheeks.

Shiro moaned, tried to put up some resistance, but his movements were limited, and Kinkade had him sinking down against the mattress with each thrust. Kinkade stopped just enough to fix the angle and move inside of Shiro.

This time, Shiro jolted in all force, and he knew he’d feel it once it was over, but Kinkade was hitting his prostate and Shiro had given up on keeping an appearance of composure and rigour. The whole bed creaked with each shove Kinkade aimed, and Shiro’s voice let out higher notes each time—throat aching.

Shiro’s orgasm built up painfully slowly, Kinkade holding onto his hip with his only free hand and pushing him down with the other still tightly squeezing Shiro’s hand behind his back. He called to Kinkade, he didn’t remember when he did, but at one point he realised he was, and Kinkade hadn’t stopped him or scolded him.

The knot in his balls was the first sign that made Shiro pray for harder, _faster_ pushes, “ _Sir- harder, Sir, please Sir- I can’t-_ ” And Kinkade obliged, shifting on his knees and crouching on Shiro, hiding him from the whole world. Whatever song was playing, Shiro’s ears were filled with the deep beat and the sound of Kinkade’s skin slapping against his, lube and precoma dripping out of his hole and down his thighs, only the sensation to let Shiro know what was going on.

He came calling Kinkade’s name, hard and loud, body twisting and shoulder aching deep down to the bone. He tightened around Kinkade’s length, felt him grunt and call him back, hand releasing their grip on Shiro’s only to hold onto his hips and steadying himself.

Kinkade pushed deeper, harder inside of Shiro, until he came with Shiro’s name on his lips and a grunt. Shiro’s skin crawled when Kinkade pulled back and a mouthful of come leaked out of him, tracing once more the lube’s trails down his thighs.

Shiro could only stay there, pinned down by Kinkade’s chest, and held steady by his hands. His legs buckled, and when Kinkade stopped moving, Shiro started moving his ass, riding Kinkade’s orgasm through. It earned Shiro a moan, and another thrust from Kinkade, who grabbed him and turned just enough so he could push his tongue inside and kiss him deeply.

Shiro moaned lightly against Kinkade’s mouth, Kinkade pulling out and collapsing on top of him. They stayed like that for a bit, enjoying the sound of each other’s breaths, basking in the afterglow. Shiro felt dizzy, skin tingling with endorphins.

“Massage?” Kinkade offered.

Shiro let out a sigh. “You’re the best,” he chimed.

Kinkade laughed before he moved away to grab some of the oils—and wet towels to clean their mess.

**Author's Note:**

> OOOF
> 
> I hope you guys liked it!! I wrote this in three hours and missed my dinner, I legit did this while listening to songs with sexual undertones and eating waffle rolls I'm so hungry but I tried okay
> 
> As always, you can come freak out in my inbox/dms on Tumblr as always, I'm @emsawards!!


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